All gone

We had an estate sale this weekend to re-home as much of Lou's stuff as possible. I thought it would be a tough job in this small village of people with modest bank accounts. I also figured that since this is largely an area of ranchers and manual laborers they'd already have all the tools they needed. But I was wrong. 

There wasn't a swarm of folks, but they came ready to buy. A lot of the major shop tools were gone before lunch the first day. The rest were gone the next morning. Some people came back for more. It's much easier to sell useful things like tools than it is nicknacks and castoff apparel.

My goal was to clear the place out, not make money, so I was generous with the pricing. But the executor, who had been close friends with Lou for many decades, was having trouble separating her grieving from the job at hand. So many things reminded her of Lou and she hoped some items would go to other close friends, to people with the same emotional attachments. Yeah, if Lou was watching from the afterlife, he probably wouldn't be happy that the buyers weren't fellow craftsmen, or were maybe even people he didn't like, but I had a job to do.

We were still left with a considerable amount of odds and ends, so we contacted some folks down the road whose business is a perpetual "yard sale" to see if they wanted to take our leftovers. They did. The proprietor is a 96-year-old woman who is much respected and adored in the community. And she's still going strong. She drove herself here and helped her son and grandson load the trucks. She says she plans on living to 120. I don't doubt she will. Maybe if she runs into Lou on the other side he'll give her a piece of his mind.